


A Miracle in Motel Room 34

by whatUseeintheshadows



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Gen, Holidays, Minor Violence, Weechesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-03 01:22:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2833016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatUseeintheshadows/pseuds/whatUseeintheshadows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Weechester oneshot. It's Christmas Eve and the brothers are alone in a crappy motel room. Eight year old Dean Winchester wishes for a Christmas miracle to brighten their holiday, but little does he know that he will soon need a miracle just to live to see December 25th...</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Miracle in Motel Room 34

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas everyone! Here's a little holiday present to you all...

Eight year old Dean Winchester sat staring out the motel window and tried to hold back the tears that threatened to fall. It was Christmas Eve and he really wished he was as happy as all the other kids were on this night. He should be decorating a Christmas tree right about now. Or in bed, dreaming of candy canes and presents. Or at church with his family. Or just about anywhere except a cold, dreary motel with only a sleeping little brother for company. There were no decorations in the room. No tree. No stockings. No colored lights. Nothing. His dad hadn’t even left them any gifts.

Dean knew that his dad had a very important job to do and he tried to never complain about the constant traveling, the dirty motels, the lack of good clothes and cool toys, or even the fact that he was constantly left alone to take care of Sammy. But he had practically begged his dad not to go this time. It did no good though. Dad had finished up one job that morning and had said the next was ‘time sensitive’ and had drove off that afternoon. And Dean was left with his four year old brother, who was also disappointed that their daddy would be gone on Christmas. 

So Dean had tried to make the best of it for Sammy’s sake. He’d sung all the Christmas carols he could think of(making up half the words when he had to), drew holiday pictures, made dorky little crafts from stuff lying around their rooms, and had a ‘wonderful’ dinner of Lucky Charms. Making Sammy happy had occupied both Dean’s time and his mind but now that the little boy was asleep, the older brother had time to sit and feel sorry for himself.

Tomorrow was going to suck. Sammy would probably cry when he realized that Dad was still gone and they had no tree or presents. No. No way in hell was Dean going to let his baby brother’s holiday be that bad. Besides, Sammy would have gifts to unwrap, Dean had made sure of that. 

The boy walked over to his duffle bag and unzipped it. Then he rummaged through his clothes until he pulled out the two candy bars, the small bag of plastic soldiers, and the red jumbo bounce ball he’d gotten from the convenience store using the ‘five finger discount’. He knew that stealing was wrong and that Dad would tan his hide if he ever found out, but then again, his dad ran scams and cheated at pool to earn money, so a little shoplifting couldn’t be that bad. And it would all be worth it to see Sammy smile on Christmas morning. 

Dean wrapped first the soldiers and then the ball in newspaper. Not the most festive looking wrapping, but it would do. He placed the gifts on the kitchenette’s table. Then he took one of his father’s large thermal socks from the clean laundry pile. Next Dean climbed onto a chair to take down one of the hideous framed paintings that adorned the walls and hung the sock on its nail. He put both of the candy bars in the makeshift stocking. Awesome.

Dean spent the next few minutes decorating the room with the pictures and crafts the boys had made earlier in the day. When he was done he took a step back and admired his handiwork. 

“Looks like crap.” He muttered.

‘Crap’ was his new favorite word. It was a cool sounding swear, but it didn’t get his mouth smacked by Dad like the ‘S’-word did. And it was a good description of the motel room. But there was nothing more he could do. Besides, Sammy was only four and would probably not realize how pathetic the decorations really were.

That done, Dean resumed his spot on the couch. He used two fingers to make a space in the blinds where he could look out. It was just as before. A gloomy motel parking lot with no black 1967 Impala. Dean sighed. He’d heard many Christmas stories over the years where there was always a last minute miracle that saved the holiday. He knew that it was foolish, but he was hoping for one of them for himself and Sammy. Maybe Dad would get to the other town only to discover that there was no hunt and he’d make it back for Christmas morning. Or better yet, maybe he’d change his mind about how time sensitive the job was and he’d decide to come back tonight to be with his sons. Dean watched the parking lot for a few more minutes but no Impala pulled up outside. Fighting back tears, he flicked the blinds closed once more. Who’d he been kidding? Miracles didn’t happen to Winchesters.

Dean got up off the couch and decided to get ready for bed. There wasn’t really that much to do if he stayed up. Everything on television would be Christmas related and he wasn’t in the mood for that. Dean didn’t feel like reading and Sammy was in the other room sleeping, so he couldn’t play any games with him and there were only so many one player card games a boy could stand. So he might as well just go to sleep. He’d need the rest for tomorrow when he’d have to keep Sammy happy and entertained all day.

Dean had finished brushing his teeth and washing up when he heard a sound outside the front door. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to believe that Dad had come home to be with them, but then reality hit and his training kicked in. Dean grabbed the loaded shotgun from where it was resting against the wall and then closed the door to the room where his little brother was. He locked it from the outside, knowing that Sammy was too short to be able to unlock it himself. If anything woke the boy up, he wouldn’t be able to come out and walk into danger. And, with any luck, if a monster did get inside and killed Dean, it wouldn’t find Sammy. There was enough bottled water and snacks in the room to last the little guy until their dad got back.

Dean crept up closer to the door and raised the shotgun. His finger wrapped around the trigger, but didn’t put pressure on it. He needed to wait for the right moment. Dad had drilled it into his head that most of the time you’d only get one shot and you’d better make it count.

For a moment, nothing happened. Dean began to wonder if he’d merely heard the motel manager walking by or something mundane like that. He slowly lowered the weapon and started to approach the door to try and peek out the peephole. He’d need to stand on the chair next to the door, but he could do it. The child was right near the door when it was violently pushed open. 

Dean was thrown backwards as something slammed into him. His little body skidded across the floor and into the far wall. Luckily, he didn’t hit it too hard and was fairly uninjured. A few bumps and bruises but nothing too serious. But he had a feeling that that was about to change.

Standing in front of him was a thing straight out of nightmares. It was easily six foot tall and that was with it being hunched over. Its eyes were blood red and glowing on the top of its grotesque head. The creature had a large mouth that seemed to split its face vertically rather than from side to side like a human’s. And its giant maw was filled with razor sharp teeth. Its body was thin and covered in brown and gray mottled skin that seemed to be peeling off of it. The legs had two sets of knees, one bending forwards and one bending back. The monster’s feet were clawed, as were its long fingers. And it was advancing on Dean in a slow but deliberate manner. 

The boy went to aim the shotgun at the monster, but found that it has fallen from his hands when he’d been hit. He was weaponless. 

As it got closer to him, Dean wondered if the thing would claw him to pieces first or just eat him whole. Would one be less painful than the other? Dean just prayed that it would leave when it was done with him and that Sammy would be safe. Man, he could really use that miracle right about now.

The creature was only a couple of feet from Dean and he tried to think of an escape but the monster was blocking his way. He thought about closing his eyes but decided to meet his end as bravely as possible. If only the damned tears weren’t running down his face, showing the world his weakness. It hovered over him and Dean held his breath, waiting for the end.

Then his miracle happened. The thing was about to eat him (or possibly rip him to pieces) when suddenly its head fell from its body. The hideous object fell into the boy’s lap as the rest of the body crumpled to the floor. And as the thing dropped out of sight, Dean saw the person responsible for saving his life. 

Bobby Singer stood right behind where the monster had been looming, his machete still raised, blood dripping from the blade. His face was grim and filled with worry, but he seemed to relax a bit upon seeing Dean relatively unharmed. 

Later, Dean would not even recall moving. One minute he was sitting with his back against the wall, the next he was in ‘Uncle’ Bobby’s arms listening to the man’s gruff voice telling him that everything was okay. 

“Yer okay, boy. Ya hear me. The thing’s dead and it can’t hurt ya. I ain’t gonna let it.”

“Uncle Bobby? How did you…” Dean couldn’t figure out what had happened.

“I got here just in time. Saw that thing comin’ at ya and took its head off.”

“What was it?”

“Just a nasty piece o’ work called an unguisrei.”

Dean looked up at the hunter in confusion. “But, that’s the thing that Dad killed today.”

“Yeah well, yer daddy didn’t finish the job. Must’ve been workin’ with bad intel. Hunters use ta think ya hadta shoot it in the heart with silver, but it’s gotta be decapitated. Thing must’ve been comin’ here to take out the hunter that tried to off it.”

“But Dad’s already gone.”

“You and I know that but obviously this thing didn’t get the memo.”

Dean pulled himself from Bobby’s embrace. “I gotta check on Sammy.”

He walked over to the bedroom door and unlocked it. A peek inside revealed that his little brother had somehow slept through all the excitement. Dean sighed in relief.

“I gotta get this mess cleaned up before he wakes up. Don’t want him seeing this.” Dean looked down at the corpse. He had no clue how he was going to dispose of it.

“I’ll get this thing taken care of if you clean the carpet.” Bobby offered.

“Sure. Thanks Uncle Bobby.” Dean smiled at the man, pleased that he had help for once. He was so used to being self-sufficient that he hadn’t even thought about asking for assistance. 

After Bobby had gotten the body loaded up in the back of an old truck he’d driven over to the motel, he got into the driver’s seat and closed the door. Dean hadn’t seen him put the corpse in the covered truck bed, and he was very glad that he didn’t have to lay eyes on it ever again. Had Bobby not shown up, that monster would’ve been the last thing Dean had ever seen. He did feel a little sad though as he watched the truck pull out of the parking lot. Then, with a wave, Bobby was gone.

Dean sighed as he went back inside and closed the door. Luckily the monster hadn’t broken it too badly and it still closed and locked well enough. Then he returned to the task of cleaning up the room.

When he was done, it was almost midnight. Dean was tired but too nervous to sleep. He knew that the monster was dead but feared that something else would come and kill both him and Sammy if he went to sleep. He was about to sit down on the couch when he heard a knock at the door.

Dean froze. Then he shook himself out of his terror induced stupor and grabbed up the shotgun again. This time he would be smart and not get too close to the door. If something came in, it was gonna get its face blown off. The knock repeated. Dean tensed.

“Boy, I know yer awake in there. Open the damned door and let me in.”

“Uncle Bobby?”

“Well, I ain’t Santa.”

Dean hopped on the couch to look out the window. And sure enough, there stood Bobby Singer. With a grin, the boy ran to the door and threw it open.

“You came back!”

“Sure did, kiddo.” Bobby reached down and ruffled his hair. “I couldn’ta brought ya this tree otherwise.”

Bobby stepped aside and Dean saw a small pine tree leaning against the old pickup truck.

“You brought a tree? For us?” 

“Yeah, and that monster screwed up my plans to get it to ya earlier, so we gotta get our asses in gear if we wanna put it up ‘fore yer brother wakes up.”

Dean was puzzled. “You mean, you didn’t come earlier just to kill that thing?”

“That was what ya thought?”

“Well, yeah.” Dean shrugged. 

“I didn’t even know that thing was around. I just heard through the grapevine that yer daddy had left you boys alone on Christmas and figured ya could use some holiday cheer.” 

Dean wrapped his skinny little arms around his ‘uncle’. “Thanks.”

“Well, we gonna stand here and hug in the freezin’ cold or are we gonna set up Christmas.”

“Choice number two.” Dean replied.

They got the tree into the room and set it in a stand that Bobby had brought. Then they strung up some lights and hung a few cheap, but colorful ornaments on it. Next came some silver and gold garland, some which went on the tree and some for the doorways. Other slightly tacky yet very festive decorations went up around the room. When they were done, Dean stepped back and took a look. It definitely didn’t look like crap.

“Awesome!”

“Glad ya like it. Now get yer butt in bed. I’ll take yer daddy’s room.”

“You’re staying?”

“Sure am.”

“Awesome.” Dean hugged Bobby again and then practically ran into the room he shared with Sammy. With Bobby watching over them, Dean knew it was safe to close his eyes. And exhaustion made certain that it took him no time at all to fall into a deep sleep.

The next morning, Dean was awakened by the motel door closing. He sat up in bed and grabbed the knife that he kept under his pillow. A quick glance showed that Sammy was just starting to stir. The older boy jumped from his bed and opened the door. Then he relaxed.

Bobby had just reentered the motel holding a tray of styrofoam cups and a white box.

“Ya know how hard it is to find a donut shop open today?”

“Dude, it’s Christmas.”

“Yeah well, we still need breakfast.”

“We have…” The word ‘cereal’ died in Dean’s throat as he caught sight of the tree that he’d helped set up the night before. It was lit up and kind of cool looking. And there were brightly wrapped presents under it. “Bobby… you… how, when…”

“Boy, you better speak better than that when yer at school.”

“The presents. You got us gifts!”

“Merry Christmas, Dean.”

“Maybe Winchesters do get miracles.” Dean whispered.

“What was that?”

“I said thanks Uncle Bobby.”

“Yer welcome, kiddo.”

“What’s going on?” A small, sleepy voice asked.

“It’s Christmas, Sammy! Check it out!”

“Wow!” The little boy’s eyes opened wide in amazement. “Santa was here! Unca Bobby, did you see him?!”

“Naw, I showed up too late to see him.”

“Can we open the gifts now?”

Dean grinned at his brother’s enthusiasm. This was the most wonderful Christmas miracle ever.

“Breakfast first, short stuff.” Bobby insisted.

“But Unca Bobby…”

“He brought donuts.” Dean informed Sammy.

“Okay, we can eat first!” The youngest Winchester quickly agreed.

The donuts were polished off within minutes, as was the hot chocolate that the hunter had brought. When they were done, the boys started to open the presents.

Dean watched as Sammy unwrapped the gifts from him along with some new children’s books, a Scooby-Doo t-shirt, two Go-Bots, and a stuffed dog with a santa hat. Dean opened up a travel-sized board game, a Ghostbusters t-shirt, and a Sony walkman with a package of batteries and a few cassette tapes.

“Dude, this is awesome!” Dean exclaimed. Then he lowered his voice. “This is too much, Uncle Bobby.”

“Trust me, Dean, it’s not enough. If I could do more for you boys, I would.”

“Well, thanks. This was an awesome holiday.”

“I’m glad.”

A while later, Dean sat at the table playing checkers with Bobby while Sam played with his new toys. He looked at the board carefully and then moved his piece.

“King me.”

“Again? Ya got some good strategy skills there, boy.”

“Maybe you’re just getting too old to play.” Dean grinned.

“Watch it.” Bobby warned, but the threat was dispersed by his laughter. “So, what we got fer lunch?”

“Mac and Cheese.”

“I saw a diner that was open today. That good for ya?”

“Yep.”

“Good. Get yer jackets on and let’s get gone.”

Dean helped Sammy into his winter coat and made sure that the little boy had his hat and scarf on as well. Then he slipped on his jacket and grabbed his new walkman. He popped in one of the tapes and pressed the play button as they walked to the truck. Dean bobbed his head to the music, finger turning the volume dial all the way up, as he climbed up and in to sit next to Sammy and Bobby. And somehow even the slightly depressing lyrics of Metallica seemed to be upbeat to him as he watched the town pass by his window. No monster or bad mood could touch him today. For it was Christmas Day, and Dean Winchester had experienced his very first miracle.


End file.
